Our Last Summer
by Phoebe Dynamite
Summary: The story of how it all began....
1. First There Was Sam

**Chapter One: First There Was Sam**

Greece, 1977

_I can still recall our last summer, I still see it all…._

The two people strolling along the dock through the darkness have not been in Greece for that long. You would never know that they aren't locals, or at least visitors who have been enjoying the islands for months. Their silhouettes are shapeless and shadowy; one could only really make out, from a distance, that one half of the couple is taller than the other, and that they are holding hands. Yes, they are holding hands and strolling along the sleeping black water that continually washes over the stony shore. The light sprinkle of native music can be heard on the wine-scented breeze, but its charm is broken by the sweeter sound of the two figures laughing. They are laughing as the walk on, moving closer to each other. It cannot be seen from a distance, but they are gripping onto each other's hands tighter. Thinking of nothing but how happy she feels, how aloft and untethered by any worries or troubles she is, the woman leans in rests her head on the man's shoulder. She thumbs the rough skin between his fingers; he takes an intoxicating whiff of her light, wavy hair. He has never been surer about anything or anyone. He looks out in the distance and sees the small rowboat he has been renting all week bobbing up and down in the water, bobbing as if approving of what he is about to do. He smiles to himself and then looks down at woman nestling blissfully into him. The grin they exchange is filled with more than the moonlight caressing them – it is a sign that everything they have been experiencing over the past two weeks has been what they have never known until now. It is falling deeply, passionately in love.

As they climb into the boat, they laugh more, joking about how, if she fell into the dark water, he could never save her while wearing his weighty bellbottoms. He diligently begins to row them over the baby waves charging at the shore while she sits mesmerized by him, feeling like a Victorian woman being rowed down a quiet river toward a countryside picnic. She feels her heart pitter-patter out of control but ignores how intense the feeling is. In a quick moment, she envisions it all: their meeting at the marketplace in town, their subsequent lunch at an outdoor tavern, their almost gravitational pull towards one another in all of the days and nights that have led to this one. She sees every glass of wine they have shared, the pile of records have they played in the tiny room he's been renting, the strip of photobooth pictures they took just the day before. She feels every kiss on her lips, their ghosts tingling their lonely surfaces as the wind dances through her blonde hair. She smiles as she watches him, feeling tears bead in her eyelashes. She loves him. She knows with all of her heart that she never find anyone she loves as much as she does Sam Carmichael.

The lights dusting the cliffside of the mainland wink at the two as they move farther and farther away from shore. Sam begins to row faster; he wants with everything in him to get to the island he discovered a few days ago. He wants to show the girl he loves the most beautiful, romantic place he's ever seen. He wants to be with her there and forget about everything else. He rows faster and faster as if each stroke of the oars will erase everything waiting for him in New York: the pending job at an architect firm, the heavy familial responsibilities brought on by the death of his father, the girl wearing a ring he presented her with three months ago. He imperceptibly shakes his head, wishing it all away. No, now there is only Donna. There is only this night. There is only this island.

With the little spit of land in sight, shrouded by the veil of night, Sam turns to Donna and feels his breath get stolen from his chest. He had not expected this. He had been feeling so much pressure at home, all of this sudden pushing into the cold realm of adulthood. He had needed an escape. When he got to Greece and caught a glimpse of a fair girl with enchanting eyes and a blithe, carefree smile, he was unprepared to fall so far so fast. As the days and nights turned, he found he couldn't stay away from that sharp mouth and fun-loving spirit. He was entranced every time she took the stage as a Dynamo, watching this amazing person bubble up and spill her infectious presence into the audience. She wasn't the one wearing the ring he had been pressured to present, but she did have something he had never felt compelled to give before – his heart.

As the boat touched upon the shore, Sam rushed to help Donna out of the boat. They walked hand-in-hand across the short stretch of beach that was laid like a carpet before the rock-hewn hills dotted with tiny, ramshackle houses. The air was warm but clear; the sky was more open above them, deep and heavily adorned with an arrangement of stars unable to be copied.

"So what's my big surprise?" she asked into his long dark hair.

He grinned and stopped walking, taking a long moment to survey the landscape of the island he loved. "This," he murmured. "This is our island, Donna."

She looked around and saw what seemed like an endless stretch of creation. It was like the entire world had just been given to her. It was theirs. In a moment too precious to be captured, she instantaneously knew that this little isle would truly always be theirs.

As if something within her burst open, she turned into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. She stared deep into his loving eyes, fingering the nape of his neck as she hummed a song she and her band had just performed a few hours prior to this little rendevous.

"So I'll be there," she sang softly, "when you arrive. The sight of you will prove to me I'm still alive" – they began to sway slowly, entwined, dancing to their own rhythm – "and when you take me in your arms and hold me tight, I know it's gonna mean so much tonight."

As the soft purr of her voice effortlessly reaching the last note floated through the night, Sam knew he couldn't take it anymore. His heart was straining, aching. This was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. This was the most he had ever loved anyone. This was the most he ever would.

"I love you, Donna Sheridan," he whispered. "For me, you're it."

She felt as if she had been set on fire, but it was glorious, earth-shaking, and more than she had ever dreamed of. Tears falling down her face, she said to him, "I love you, Sam." She pressed her lips against his, passion igniting the greatest of sparks between them. They continued to sway, the sound of the peaceful sea unheard as their contact remained unbroken.

They were still kissing when the dance stopped and her fingers trailed down his shirt. She undid the buttons one by one, breathing in his scent as he gripped the side of her face with urgency. He helped her remove his shirt, giving them a moment to take a breath and look at each other. They just stared helplessly for a moment, and then they smiled in unison. They began kissing again as article after article of clothing was tenderly removed. As he unzipped her dress, they sank down onto the sand. They both thought of how good the other's skin felt upon their own, how sweet they tasted. After a short while, though, there were no thoughts. It was feelings, all wonderful, magical, fiery. They drowned in a passion they had never known existed, and after it peaked and they came slowly down, like a feather drifting through the air, they lied there, holding each other, breathing in deeply, gently planting kisses.

"I will always, always love you," Sam whispered breathlessly to her. "I need you to know that, Donna."

"I do," she whispered, blinking back tears as she gazed up at the infinite sky cradling them.

He rubbed his lips against the soft skin of her neck. He felt like crying, something he had not even been able to do at the deathbed of his father. Would she ever really know how great his love was, how he would always want her despite the future, despite everything?

"I need you to know," he said deliriously. "Donna, promise me that you will never doubt how much you mean to me."

"I promise," she said as she was suddenly wrapped in a haze of sleepiness. Her eyes fluttered close; her hold on his hand instinctively tightened. She promised, and that promise embedded itself into the very core of her soul.

'How lucky am I?' she thought as she drifted off into slumber, Sam's warm, soothing breath an unsung lullaby.

While she was sleeping, Sam did not move. He watched her breathe and smile faintly as she dreamed. The sounds of the rest of the world came back to him, but it was only after at least an hour that he looked up at the quiet Mediterranean behind them. He stared off into the slowly lighting horizon and wanted to suspend this moment. Looking back down at Donna, the dawn shedding a grayish light on her soft features, he felt his heart surge with love and break at the very same time. He lied his head down, remembered how she made him feel one last time, and closed his eyes.


	2. A Shared Dream, and a Shattered One

Chapter Two: A Shared Dream, and a Shattered One

The island was actually called Kalokari, and it was a beautiful fishing village that had somehow escaped large bouts of tourism. But over the next week, it became Sam and Donna's island. They spent all hours of the day on its shore, hiking its craggy hills, eating at tiny, hole-in-the-wall taverns, rowing boats around the isle's whole perimeter. Every day, the island brought them closer together. At night, underneath an unscheathed moon, they would make love, both absolutely sure that this was how they wanted to live forever. They were both a bit restless by nature, but they had no desire to flee their new life together. Neither had ever been so happy before.

A week after their first trip to the island, on a glorious morning that rang with the sound of rushing waves and local chatter, Donna and Sam sat inside of a cove they had discovered a few days before. The sunlight glinted off of the watery rocks that lined the cove's walls, bouncing off of Donna's blue eyes as she practiced her dance moves for that night's Donna and the Dynamos show. Sam watched subtly, making as if he was looking casually out at the beach, but his eyes drank in Donna, so into what she was doing and yet so carefree at the same time. She was so uninhibited, so passionate, so illuminating in his world that had been feeling so dark before he met her. He smiled as she moved effortlessly around the cove, starting to sing quietly but well, as he knew she would do.

"Waterloo, I was defeated, you won the war. Waterloo, promise to love you forevermore."

Before she sang the next lines, she looked up at Sam, acknowledging his presence with a gleaming smile that tugged at every string attached to his heart. Her hair hung like that of Rapunzel's over her thin frame, which was sporting nothing more than her underwear and his one dress shirt he had thoughtlessly packed. She looked absolutely radiant in it. When she looked up at him and their eyes met like that of two strangers who instantly know they want each other, Sam knew that he would never, ever forget how beautiful she looked at this moment.

"Waterloo, couldn't escape if I wanted to. Waterloo, knowing my fate is to be with you."

Sam, suddenly inspired by how high she made him feel, hopped up off the rock he had been sitting on and did a ridiculous dance as he belted out the next words. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, Waterloo! Finally facing my Waterloo!" Donna's laughter echoed throughout the cove.

When Donna wrapped her arms around Sam's neck and brought him in for a sizzling kiss that burned brighter than that Grecian summer day, it was pretty certain that practice was officially over. He ran his hands through her cotton-soft hair; her hips moved in towards his as she tenderly bit his bottom lip. He began to murmur her name, something that drove both of them crazy, and in one swift move, she brought him down on top of her on the sandy floor. Within a minute, her soft moans filled the warm air captured in the private, obscure cove. She had always been a loving woman, but no one had ever made her feel the way Sam did. It was much more than the sex, which was by far the best she had ever had. It was that, when he touched her or moved in her, she could just feel on a completely unreal level that he truly loved her. Now, every time they made love, she thought of the promise he had made her make in the calm aftermath of their first time. It was one easily kept; there was no way she could ever forget how he made her feel like she was the only person in his world.

Usually, after sex, Donna liked to just relax for a few minutes before springing up and bouncing off the walls again, but Sam always had a drugging effect on her. It was like a glass of warm milk or a lullaby, instantly making her drowsy in the best possible way. But Sam liked to talk, to connect with her and be with her beyond the physical way. This time was no different. As she slid her underwear back up her legs, Sam leaned over her, his smile pure, his eyes attached to hers.

"What?" she asked teasingly, smiling back at him. "Do I have something on my face?"

"Not that I can see," he replied with a slight chuckle.

"Well then, maybe you should get a closer look in." She batted her eyelashes and sunk her chin a little into her neck, her hair spiraling out around her head like a blazing halo. Sam slowly moved toward her, playing along, and when their lips met in an ethereal kiss, an unexpected idea erupted in his brain.

He leaned back, took a good look at Donna as if doing so would confirm it, and then stood up and began going through the pockets of the leather vest he had worn that day.

"What are you doing?" Donna asked, leaning up on her elbow.

Sam found what he was looking for, a run-down pencil and a crumpled, folded-up menu from the restaurant they had eaten lunch at that day. He flashed a smile at the girl he loved and began to sketch like a madman.

"Sam, what are you doing?"

"Drawing you a hotel," he said confidently, passionately. He drew the tip of the pencil across the back of the paper swiftly, the vision in his head perfectly clear and coming without trouble to his able hand.

"What do you mean?" she asked, standing up and looking over his shoulder at the sketch.

"This," he said, holding the menu up in the light speckling the cove, smiling proudly. "This is the hotel I'm going to build one day on this island. A hotel you and I can run together." He looked up into her eyes, melting under their pristine blue gaze. "The Villa Donna."

Donna looked for a long moment into Sam's eyes, seeing the goodness, the love, so much of both that her heart stung in her chest. She drew her gaze away from him to look at the drawing. For as rough as it was, she could see the outline of something impressive. She sighed, imagining the building sprawled out along the rocky hills overlooking the harbor. An impregnable happiness ballooned in her belly and she leaned down and kissed Sam.

"Our hotel," she whispered when she drew away, the tips of her hair caressing his face. Her lips curled into a blithe grin. "That would be a gas, I just know it."

"You got that straight." Sam glanced at the drawing, tilted the page, made a few more alterations, and folded it back up and put in the pocket of the shirt Donna wore. The gesture was so tender, so affectionate; they each other's eyes as Sam gently patted Donna's chest.

"Keep that safe for me," he whispered, his hand pressed against her heart.

Donna's eyes misted over, hot in the thick summer air. "I will," she replied, knowing he was not talking about the sketch.

Without warning, by the sheer impulse of his heart being so near to hers, Sam grabbed her face in his hands and kissed her so zealously that he stole the very breath from her mouth. When he pulled away, he gave her a wink and then took off like a shot out of the cove. Laughing, Donna followed him out onto the beach, her hair trailing in the wind behind her.

"Got a whale of a tale to tell you lads!" Sam sang out, dancing a mock Irish jig. "A whale of a tale or two 'bout the flapping fish and the girls I've loved on nights like this with the moon above! A whale of a tale and it's all true – I swear by my tattoo!"

* - * - *

The deeper the night dove, the more Sam thought about it. He hated it, wanted to swat it away as if it were nothing more than a gnat. But it prodded him irritatingly, making him restless, keeping him awake as the village around him lied silent in slumber. He set up in his cot, his eyes concentrated on the black block of sky staring at from outside the window. He sighed in frustration, his breath wracked with guilt and annoyance.

He had to tell her. He couldn't keep doing this. After the day they had just had, he knew that their true love could not keep going so tainted by everything left behind in the States. Distance could not make it all simply go away. How could he possibly jump with her when he was so tied down?

Sad, desperate, he looked down at the girl sleeping next to him. My God, he thought, she is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. His lips flickered in a smile as he thought of how wildly she had danced at her show tonight, driving the crowd crazy, winking and laughing and blowing a kiss to him from the stage. He had been so proud and happy. He was sure he had never felt luckier before in his life. But now, as he drank in the sound of her breathing, the smell of the beach tangled in the locks of her hair, the softness of her skin in the moonlight, all he wanted to do take her in his arms and make the rest of it disappear.

She had to know. He loved her far too much to wrong her so gravely. Pain burning his chest and pushing out through his watery eyes, he turned away from her. He lied down, his muscles taut, his eyes on the ceiling. In the morning, he would tell her. And then he would go and end everything. He would set things right.

* - * - *

The moment she woke, she knew something was wrong.

Sam was sitting at the small table next to the window, his vacant yet intense stare fixed out at the morning bustle of the neighborhood. She sat up, a ball of nervousness squeezing her stomach. Her lips suddenly dried; her voice cracked with hesitation.

"Sam, what's the matter?"

At first he made as if he hadn't her, and she was just about to repeat her words when she saw his eyes narrow and his frame wince, as if he was pain. My heart filled her throat. When he turned his head finally and see could the full weight of sorrow in his face, she felt as if she had been punched.

"Sam…"

"Donna, I have to go back to New York."

A weird surprise filled Donna. "Ok," she said tentatively.

Sam sighed, the sound anguished and tired. He stood, but for some reason he looked smaller than usual. His whole person seemed different, even shriveled.

"I have to go back because…" A moan filled his throat, one that drowned Donna with dread. "Aw shit. I – I have to go back because…" He got caught in Donna's petrified eyes like they were roses lined with prickly thorns. "Because…"

"Because what?" she cried.

"Because I'm engaged, Donna."

Reeling back as if she had been slapped plain across the face, Donna collapsed against the wall. The air fled from her throat. A heat like she had never known before – not the amazing one Sam usually arose in her – enveloped her instantly.

Stunned with pain beyond anticipation at her reaction, Sam began stuttering as he started to tremble. "Donna, I never expected any of this. I mean, there had been so many things wrong before I came here, and when I met you, everything changed."

Tears blinded Donna's eyes. The intensity of this betrayal and hurt forced her fist into her mouth to keep herself from screaming.

"Donna, please, I never meant to hurt you. I love you so much, too much, but I have to go back and – "

Her wail, unlike anything Sam had ever heard, pierced through the tranquil morning. Tears speeding down her face, she stared at him with a look that made her appear as if her very soul had been hollowed out of her. Sam felt as if he had shot just been shot. He leaned against the wall for support.

"I never want to see you again," she decreed in a haunting voice, her weeping eyes, like a mess of bluish oil paint, latched onto his with the force of a tidal wave.

"Donna," he squeaked out.

A moment later, she was gone.


End file.
